


And Property.

by Basingstoke



Category: Andromeda
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2002-08-12
Updated: 2002-08-12
Packaged: 2017-10-03 18:50:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,406
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21122
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Basingstoke/pseuds/Basingstoke





	And Property.

The winning bidder was announced by the bot as "Zortho Azrai and property."

"And property?" Beka whispered to Dylan. Dylan shrugged, then winced as the motion pulled his shoulders a little too far. He rattled the cuffs again and found no yield again.

"Zortho Azrai and property" turned out to be a small manlike alien with skin like polished black leather, riding on the shoulder of a large Nietzschean shrouded in white fabric, and followed by another bot. The bot stopped at the door and the Nietzschean kneeled to set his rider gently on the floor. The rider had yet to open his eyes; he had to be Zortho Azrai. Dylan just wondered how he got a Nietzschean to *do* that.

The Nietzschean stood behind Zortho Azrai's chair. "Zortho Azrai does not speak to aliens," he said in a soft, low voice.

A soft, low voice that...kind of sounded like Tyr, and Dylan was suddenly much cheerier. Beka nudged him slightly. She must have spotted it too.

"Here is the payment," the Nietzschean said, handing the Drift boss a pad. The boss looked from the Nietzschean to Zortho Azrai in evident confusion, but took the pad and plugged it into the computer for verification.

If Dylan squinted, he could almost see Harper's features in "Zortho Azrai"--but only if he tried hard. He was bald, even his eyebrows shaven, for one. He wasn't moving, for another--well, he moved enough to sit down when the Nietzschean set him down, but he was sitting perfectly still in the chair. Bizarre. And Tyr! If that was Tyr. His face was covered by a gauze veil and his body was concealed in a long robe. Only his forearms were exposed, but they were the wrong color: pink, not brown.

Well, if it wasn't Tyr and Harper, he and Beka still had Plan C. She hadn't told him exactly what Plan C was, but he was pretty sure it involved overpowering their captors and stealing their ship.

The Drift computer confirmed the payment. The boss handed over the pad to complete the transfer. The Nietzschean took the pad and knelt beside Zortho Azrai, who opened his eyes for the first time then. Red--solid red and pupil-less. Zortho Azrai pressed his finger to the pad and the transaction was complete.

The Nietzschean activated the bot as the Drift boss opened the cage. He unhooked Beka first, then Dylan, handing them in turn into the steel grip of the bot. Zortho Azrai stood--eyes closed once again--and the Nietzschean lifted him back onto his shoulder. They strode back out onto the courtyard of the Drift, followed by the bot, which yanked Beka and Dylan after it, backwards, like balloons on a string.

It was a hell of a parade. Everyone stared. Beka made faces bad enough that at least one child burst into tears.

Zortho Azrai's ship was a beautiful, tiny yacht. The bot tugged them inside and they leaned against the door as the Nietzschean pressed a few buttons on the control panel.

"I could really get used to this," Zortho Azrai said in Harper's voice. Beka whipped her head around and beamed. "Hey, robodummy! Let them go."

The bot released them. Beka knocked her chains against the bulkhead and wriggled her eyebrows. "Guys?"

"But it's a great look for you--ack!" Harper said as Tyr grabbed his ankle and swung him upside down. "Hey! Hey!"

"Get used to it? When you delegate power you increase vulnerability, boy. Never forget that." Tyr dropped Harper the last six inches to the floor.

"Duly noted," Harper groused, flat on his back.

"How can someone as small as you weigh as much as you do?" Tyr loosened the veil and let it slide free as he touched the pad to Beka's and Dylan's cuffs to unlock them. Under the veil, his skin was pink, which looked very odd, and there was a fine silver filigree attached to his face.

"Why, is your uber-strength giving out?"

"No. But I have the imprints of your hip bones embedded in my trapezius muscle."

"You like it, admit it....Wait, Tyr?" Harper asked with a sudden sharp note of panic.

"Yes?"

"Where's the solvent? I think I'm allergic." Harper rolled up to his feet, red eyes widened. Tyr whirled, robe swirling around his ankles, and tossed Harper back over his shoulder to carry him down the corridor. "Hey! I can walk!"

"Shut up and take your clothes off," Tyr growled, around the corner.

Beka raised an eyebrow at Dylan. "Oh, I have to see this," Dylan said.

They ran down the corridor and turned the corner in time to hear Tyr say "keep your eyes closed" and see him turn a hose on a buck naked Harper. Beka grinned as the black paint melted away, leaving Harper looking *especially* naked, since under that his body was shaved head to toe. He also had a silver mesh glued to his face. It came off when he rubbed it.

Tyr placed a hand on Harper's head and turned him one way, then the other, then nodded and turned off the spray. He turned on the shower. "Cold!" Harper shouted.

"I can see that," Beka said, giggling a little. She sat on the countertop and rubbed antiseptic gel into the abrasions on her wrists.

"Voyeurs!" Harper shouted.

"Oh no, it's Tyr I'll be ogling," Beka said. "You're just the comic relief."

"There is no love in this room," Harper said, and turned off the water. "So Tyr. Need a hand?"

"No." Tyr handed Harper a towel and pointed at the door.

"You sure?" Beka said.

"Very." He pointed at the door more emphatically.

Harper bumped Dylan with his hip as he walked out the door. "Hey, boss. The undying gratitude can begin *any* minute." His skin was reddening, especially inside his elbows and around his neck. His eyes were still that eerie flat blood red.

"Oh, it has," Dylan said.

"We're worshiping you from afar," Beka said.

Harper grinned. He rubbed at his eyes. "Damn. Beka, give me a hand with these things?"

Beka tilted up his chin. "Eye skins?"

"Yeah."

"Hold still." And Harper did, indeed, hold perfectly still as she touched the pads of her fingers to his eye and slid them slowly off. They were *enormous.* Dylan couldn't imagine how Harper had gotten them in to begin with. "Great design," Beka said. "Where did you get these?"

"Tyr's magic disguise box, which I did not know he had. They're Molaran. Liquid . You program the applicator and then squirt it into your eyes, right? And it forms a new layer of eyeball over your real eyes. Most sensors can't tell the difference."

"Most? How much of a risk did you take back there?" Dylan asked.

"Molaran eye scans can tell the difference," Harper said as Beka pulled the other one out of his eye. "The Nietzschean sensors at Rodeo Drift could not. Know how we foxed them?"

Dylan crossed his arms and waited.

"Man, tough crowd. So they had facial sensors, right? They can look right through your clothes. I, genius that I am, made sensor masks to disguise the shape of our faces, but then the masks themselves needed to be hidden, plus we needed to disguise against visual recognition, right? So Tyr suggested we go as Rexo Porthos. Ready-made disguise for him, an excuse to shut up for me, plus we'd look so weird that *nobody* would suspect who we were. Hey, are you guys okay?"

"Just a few bumps and bruises. Hold this," Beka said, handing Harper the antiseptic and taking Dylan's wrists. She smeared the gel into his own scrapes.

"Rendezvous with the Andromeda Ascendant in ten minutes," said the computer. Tyr emerged from the bathroom dressed in pants and boots, skin scrubbed brown again, hair soaked and dripping down his back.

Something bothered Dylan, looking at Tyr. "You shaved your beard," he realized.

"Harper shaved his head. I could hardly evade my portion of the subterfuge."

Harper smirked smugly. "Gotta jump pretty high to keep up with Seamus Harper."

"Is anyone watching the sensors? They may discover the Andromeda at any time." Tyr strode down the corridor. As he passed Harper, he flicked a lock of hair over his shoulder--spattering Harper with water.

"Hey!"

Tyr folded his hands behind his back and disappeared into another room.

"*No love*," Harper muttered.

*


End file.
